Wait For Me
by ViennaWaitsForMe
Summary: [Miracle] Maggie Brooks is dealing with demons of her own. When she is enlisted by her father reluctantly to become the Team Manager for the 1980 Men's Hockey Team, she encounters more than she bargains for.
1. Chapter 1

Hey everyone-- I'm Amanda. I'm new to the site (well, at least the member's perspective of it, anyway) and this is my first published story. I have, however, been reading many stories in the past year or so, and have been writing for quite a long time. I have now finally decided to post something on here (so forgive me if the format is strange or there are errors in spacing or whatnot) for everyone to see. I do love feedback and would love it if you could take a minute and let me know what you thought.

I have two stories for _Miracle_ I am currently working on (this is my most recent endeavor) and you should be seeing the other sometime soon... It is one of my all-time favorite movies and I love writing stories about it. Being an insane hockey fan myself, I have so much respect to all of the players on this team-- they truly did accomplish a miracle, and I would like to pay them a tribute (however small it may be). This will be a multi-chapter story, and I have taken a lot of time writing and editing it.

And yes, I know some people really get sick of having stories 'right out of the movie' (with lines verbatim, entire scenes depicted, what have you), but just give this one a chance- maybe it'll surprise you.

Lastly, I obviously do not own any of the wonderful boys featured in the movie _Miracle_, but I sure wish I did. All of those boys are on the top of my Christmas List... However, Maggie, my character, I do own.

So, without further adieu, I would like to present to you my recent effort of a hopefully entertaining piece of fiction... Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter One

_Minneapolis, Minnesota_

_Tuesday, June 3, 1979_

"Maggie, can you give me a hand and bring these plates into the living room for me, please?" Patti Brooks asked, pointing to the stack of dishes sitting on the kitchen counter.

"Yeah." Maggie replied, grabbing them off the counter and carrying them into the living room. Setting the plates down on the table, she looked out the window, somewhat fogged up from the steady rain that had been falling for the past two days.

"I think Dad's home." she said, seeing her father's sedan come up the driveway. "His flight must have got in early."

The door opened a few moments later, revealing Herb Brooks running in from the rain.

"Hey." Patti called as she entered the room, setting down another small stack of dishes on the table beside Maggie. She appeared in the doorway to greet her husband.

"It's coming down out there." Herb said, shaking the water off of his jacket and heading into the kitchen. "Hey, where are the kids?" he asked.

Patti walked in the kitchen, Maggie dolefully tagging along behind her.

"Oh, I gave them away." She laughed. "But Maggie's here." Herb looked up, seeing his oldest daughter leaning on the doorframe.

"Hey Pumpkin." He said, nodding at Maggie with a small smile on his face.

"Hey Dad." She smiled weakly, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the kitchen wall. "How'd it go?" She was just as interested- passionate, really- about hockey as her father, and had been waiting earnestly all weekend to hear the results about his job offering.

Herb shrugged off his jacket and laid it over the back of a chair.

"Aw, I'm not their guy." He said over his shoulder while walking over to the refrigerator. "The only reason they had me come out there was because two other coaches already said no. I think they're still looking East coast." He said, reaching in the refrigerator for the pitcher of water and a glass.

Glancing down the hall and seeing three costumes hanging on the door, he turned towards Patti.

"What's that?" he asked somewhat suspiciously, filling his glass. He looked over at Maggie.

"It's a costume party, Herb." Patti supplied, enthusiasm in her voice.

"No, Patti." He stated.

"Come on. Nick and Nora Charles. 'The Thin Man'." She begged, grinning.

"You're gonna make me wear this?" he asked her.

"Yes. They're sophisticated, they're dashing, they're debonair…" she said with flair.

Herb turned to his daughter. "Did you know about this?"

Maggie held up her hands in defense. "I had no control over it. I tried to talk her out of it, but she insisted!" He shook his head and turned out if the kitchen, heading towards the stairs.

"I've got a mustache for you," Patty persisted, following him.

"Aw, no Patti!" Herb groaned.

"And a little dog for me!" she said, smiling. Walking back into the kitchen, she beamed elatedly at her daughter, yipping lightheartedly.

_(Maggie's POV)_

"I can't believe I have to do this." I groaned, looking at myself in the mirror above my dresser later that night. I had tried everything- and I mean everything- to persuade my mother to allow me to stay upstairs with Kelly and Danny; anything other than having to attend the costume party. I have never especially been fond of parties or any social event, but now after the accident I disliked them even more.

See, my mother always has enjoyed having parties and hosting events. She is an extremely extroverted person, something which I think is great, but her outgoing, _extremely_ sociable personality clashes terribly with my Dad's and mine. We're probably the most introverted people in all of Minnesota; we're not exactly ecstatic when a hundred people come over to munch on Trail Mix, sip martinis and champagne, and make small talk... But, then again, if the world was in either my dad's or my hands, everyone would be living in caves without costume parties, martinis, champagne, Trail Mix, and no one would have to make boring conversation with complete strangers…

But, once more, if the world indeed was in our hands, we would make everyone play hockey all the time… And that is the one thing my mother will simply not put up with.

Sure, she likes the game, but she believes that my dad and I have an obsession about something too simple and petty to take seriously. 'It's just a game, Maggie. No one is dying over it' is what she always said. She was cooperative with driving me to games and practices, stood cheering dutifully in the stands as every other mother did, and if we lost would buy me an ice cream or take me to a movie to feel better, but she never did understand why my dad and I loved the game of hockey so much. Dad, of course, was always coaching the team I was on, and he was the one who stayed out with me until late in the night on the pond down the hill with only his car's headlights providing light to see the puck with. He always seemed to get me, if that makes any sense. Kindred spirits, you could say. Dad and I understand each other. We get why we act like we do, we understand why one would hide in the house with all the blinds shut and the lights out watching old game film when there's a party down the street or a block party outside. It's no mystery to us as to why we spend hours on end setting up a play on the ice, and if the control of the puck was lost or went wide of the net you would do it over and over again until you can run it like clockwork. My mother calls us crazy; she says we work too hard at a simple game. Although I am the first to admit I love the sport, we both have the tendency to completely devote and submerse ourselves into what we love, and no matter what the task is or how hard it would be to accomplish, we always kept at it until we finally succeeded in what we had set out to do. I think it's a noble trait, and even though it can get a little out of hand occasionally, its positive aspects greatly outnumber the negative ones.

* * *

Twenty-one year old Margaret Yvonne Brooks was almost the spitting image of her father, with both appearances and mannerisms. She had the identical chocolate brown hair and fair skin as her father, the same blazing light blue eyes, and especially the same fervor about hockey. Being his first child, Herb had taught her everything he knew about the sport he cared so deeply for. Maggie had practically been skating figure-eights since before she could walk, and had played and watched hockey ever since she could remember. She had connected with her father at an early age, and their relationship had always been exceptionally strong. Maggie loved Patti just as much as she loved Herb, but the strong foundation wasn't there like it was with her father. 

Maggie always knew what she wanted. In May, she graduated from the University of Minnesota as a Communications Major, what she had wanted to do since her freshman year of high school. One of her best friends, Rob McClanahan, had attended school with Maggie since elementary school, and even played on the same junior hockey team year after year with her (Herb as the coach, of course).

Throughout middle school- and especially high school- she and Rob had an amazing friendship. They were always together, and it was certain that if Maggie was there, Robbie was nearby. In college they remained as close as ever, their relationship the same dependable one it had been all the years before.

At freshman orientation, Maggie sat next to a girl that would soon come to be one of her best friends. Ellie Dawson was everything that Maggie wasn't, and the two immediately hit it off. Their opposite natures created a bond that most people could never understand. Throughout their four years at UM, the two were tremendously close. They shared a bond that was unbreakable, and knew that they would be lifelong friends…

But then that terrible night occured, and everything ended. Maggie immediately spiraled into a deep depression, discarding everyone's incessant offers for help. Even when Robbie tried to talk to her and convince her to seek help she refused.

That was in late April. For the last month of her senior year, Maggie practically killed herself with her schoolwork. She passed all of her final exams with flying colors- graduated with honors, even. But she never was the spirited, amazing person she had been before.

Maggie never returned to her old self, although she hid it extremely well. She smiled, came out of her bedroom she had retreated and hidden in for two months, and finally seemed like the old Maggie was coming back again. Everyone was tremendously relieved she could finally get on with her life, but in reality it was all a facade to keep people from constantly wanting her to 'talk about it' and try to 'get over' what had happened and move on.

She didn't fool everyone, however. Her friends and close family could tell the difference and could sense her cry for help. They could see the bags under her eyes she desperately tried to cover with makeup, how her smile never reached her eyes, how the spark was never there when she laughed. They all could see the difference in the woman who, before, would make you feel incredible just by talking with her, but would now retreat inside herself and bury her feelings with a vengeance.

Robbie and her other friends tried everything they could to get her out and back to enjoying her life, but nothing ever seemed to work. No one knew that Maggie would cry herself to sleep every night, or how she no longer enjoyed anything she used to. No one knew that Maggie had completely fallen apart on the inside, and regardless of how hard she tried could not put herself together again.

* * *

So as I looked at myself dressed as an Indian, with feathers in my braids and sandaled feet, I felt as empty as ever. I thought I looked pretty, though not in the least bit resembling an Indian: the blue eyes, pale skin, and freckles pretty much ruined my chances of that. The costume fit, it showed off my curves (something I'm glad I inherited from my mother) and I didn't even put that much of a fight with my mother over having to wear it. I figured it was pointless arguing with her; I only hoped I would be able to get back upstairs away from everyone as soon as I could. 

My hair was in two braids, with a feather sticking up off the back of my head, fastened with one of those Pocahontas strings around my forehead like the hippies used to wear in the sixties.

"Maggie, the party is going to start in twenty minutes! Come downstairs and help me put the food out!" Mom yelled from downstairs.

I groaned. Getting one last look at myself in the mirror before heading downstairs, I made a face at my reflection. _I hate parties._ I thought, walking out my bedroom door.

I always have memories of my house smelling of hors' d'evoures, perfume on the women and cologne on the men, hearing smooth jazz playing on the record player, watching people milling around chatting aimlessly, all strangely taking pleasure from it. I'd sit on the stairs and peek through the banister at all the pretty ladies smiling and laughing, and the men being charming and polite long after I was supposed to be in bed asleep. And when I was old enough, my mother made me attend- she said everyone loved seeing me, they thought I was so cute, and My! How much I looked like Herb!

That first party, I was bored to tears and ever since have hated them.

Even in college when Ellie would take me to parties I hated it. I am the kind of person who would stay in their room with the TV or their stereo on and study while a party was going on just down the hall. I was happiest with a movie on television or with a good book in my room- preferably alone. When Mom always made me go to her parties when I was a teenager, I managed to sneak Robbie through the back door and we would sit in the wet room and talk for hours with the party happening on the other side of the kitchen. Every half hour or so I would sneak back out to steal some food for him and I and to look like I was having a good time- all the while letting my mother see me- and come back to our spot and eat.

That's the awesome thing about Robbie. He and I are so close we know what the other one is thinking. I can tell just by his body language what he's feeling and he has this uncanny ability to sense when I'm feeling down. He's the only one who really knows how it feels to be like that all the time- to not be able to get over something incredibly devastating in just a few short months. He will listen to me when no one else will, and will always be there to rub my back and offer a hug when I feel like crying.

"Just forty-five minutes, Maggie. Forty-five minutes. It won't kill you to actually have a conversation with of our friends. Come on, do something productive." I rolled my eyes. Mom and I were in the kitchen; she was putting Trail Mix onto cookie sheets and placing them in the oven to toast while I was drying the good china by the sink.

"Mom, I assure you when you were my age you had no desire to talk to people that were twice as old as you. Can't I just stay upstairs with Danny and Kelly?" I pleaded. "Playing with them would be just as productive as making small talk with people dressed in ridiculous costumes." I knew I was fighting a losing battle, but I wasn't going to give up yet. If only Dad was even slightly interested in this party... he would be able to talk both me and himself out of attending that night by coming up with some crazy excuse about having to stay locked in his office watching TV or talking and having a good time by ourselves.

"Margaret Yvonne, don't you argue with me. You are going to stay downstairs and attend this party even if I have to tie you down to a chair the entire time!"

"Mom! Come on! I don't feel like it. Please, let me stay upstairs?" I called as I went into the living room to put a tray of hors d'evoures on the table.

Mom gave me a nasty look through the doorway. That was it. When my mother started to get angry, the smart thing to do was to give up and stop arguing- or else you would get the brunt of her unpleasant demeanor. That itself was something to be feared.

I sighed. "I will stay down here for forty-five minutes, no more and no less, I promise. Is that okay with you, Mother?"

She smiled, smug she had won the argument, and patted my cheek. "Yes. You just remember what you said." With that, she placed a bowl of warm Trail Mix in my hands and walked back into the kitchen.

The phone rang as soon as I walked into the kitchen carrying an empty bowl of punch.

_(approx. an hour later)_

"Mom, we need more punch!" I said to my mother's back, who was scraping food into a trash can.

Mom turned around smiling with a slightly flustered look on her face. "Just get it out of the fridge, dear." Hearing the phone ring, Patti turned. "Oh, Linda, could you get that for me?" Linda, one of my mother's friends from work dressed as who I assumed to be Marie Antoinette, nodded.

"Oh, sure." She picked up the receiver from the wall. "Hello?... Yes, just a moment, please." She put the receiver to her shoulder.

"Patti, it's for Herb, someone from the U.S.O.C.?" she said. I immediately jumped. That was the Olympic Committee in Colorado Springs! They were calling back about Dad's coaching position!

"I'll go tell him!" I offered, running out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the rec room where I knew Dad was hiding out from the party. Funny how he didn't ever make it downstairs when the party started.

"Dad!" I cried, bursting into the room. He was in the middle of a foosball hockey match against Danny.

"Yeah?" he said distractedly, never looking up from the game.

"Dad." I persisted, now sounding more serious. He finally stopped, looking up at me. "The U.S.O.C.'s on the phone."

His face froze, and immediately rushed over to the door.

"We're not done here." He said, looking back at Danny, walking out of the room with me right behind him.

_(3__rd__ Person)_

"…Well I appreciate that, Walter. Thank you." Herb hung up the phone.

"What'd they say?" Patti asked, walking into her husband's office towards the end of the party. Maggie was slung over in an armchair in the corner, listening to the whole phone conversation as she pretended to skim through a book.

"I got the job." He said, smiling up at Patti. He looked over at Maggie. "I got the job, huh? How 'bout that?" he grinned. He reached over and embraced Patti.

"Oh, that's great! When do you start?" Patti exclaimed.

"Two weeks."

"Two weeks?" Patti interjected. "They want you to start that soon?"

"The games are in February, so…" he started.

"But it's June!" Patti exclaimed. "Is there even ice?" she smiled. It faltered, however a moment later. "Honey, we were supposed to take the kids to the Black Hills…"

"I know, I know…"

Just then Kelly came running in, dressed as Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz.

"Mommy! Mommy!" Patti turned towards her youngest child. "Cleopatra's leaving, and she wants to say goodbye to you." She said matter-of-factly.

"Okay, okay." Patti replied, nodding and walking towards the door.

"I gotta call Craig Patrick right now." Herb exclaimed, putting his glasses back on and looking excitedly through the Rolodex on his desk.

_(Maggie's POV)_

"Hey Maggs?" Dad said to me, after placing the phone back on its cradle. He wasn't able to reach Craig, but he left a message telling him to call Dad back as soon as he got it.

"Yeah Dad?" I replied, glancing up from my book and setting it back on the bookshelf.

"How'd you like to help me out on the team?" I froze. Did he just say what I thought he said? How was I going to get around this one?

"Uh, well…" I started. But Dad cut me off.

"'Cause I think it would be good for you. You know, get out. It would do you good. It's been practically two months now, Maggs. It won't hurt if you start to get over it." I sighed. This was what this was about. Didn't they understand that a few short weeks wasn't going to change everything?

"Well, Dad," I started once again, but like every other time, I got cut off.

"I'm not taking no for an answer. You're gonna be on that plane with me to Colorado Springs in two weeks." He paused, thinking. "And you're the team manager."

Well, there was no talking him out of that one.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Thank you's go out to all the reviewers! It's so funny, it's like there's this little 'Miracle' fanfic network... it's a slowly growing army! Anyways, sorry for the delay. Computers are such a bother.  
_

_This is the second installment-- enjoy!_

* * *

Chapter Two

_Colorado Springs, Colorado_

_Friday, June 13, 1979_

_Seven Months Until Opening Ceremony_

_(Maggie)_

"Maggs, I want you to help check-in the players." Herb said to me as we passed through the giant doors leading into the arena. Our flight had just landed an hour earlier, and we still had three hours until the event started.

"Okay." I replied, grimacing a bit. As much as I loved hockey, and as much as I loved my Dad, I didn't know if I would be able to get through these seven months alive.

"Maggie?" He said seriously.

"Yeah Dad?"

"Now you and I both know that you will be surrounded by hockey players for the next seven months, and you are my daughter. You are to stay professional with this team, and I don't want you getting involved with any of them. I don't want any of my players distracted. Understood?"

I rolled my eyes. _Don't worry, Dad. I have no plan whatsoever to get 'involved' with any of your players. Not after what happened... one of them was enough. _I thought.

"I won't, Dad. Understood."

He nodded, giving me a side glance. "Good."

The conversation was closed and forgotten as soon as Herb stepped into his makeshift office the USOC had provided for him. He set down stacks of papers, all typed up, beside the typewriter, and turned towards the door.

"Let's go."

For the remaining three hours, I helped set up tables, stocked locker rooms and med rooms, and sorted files ready to be filled with the different players' information and statistics once the tryouts began.

The doors opened soon enough and throngs of hockey players flooded through them, lugging bags of equipment and sticks alongside them. It looked like complete chaos to me. Many players were being reunited with old teammates; some were seeing people for the first time in years. I recognized a lot of guys from University of Minnesota- Buzzy Schnieder, Phil Verchota, Mike Ramsey "Rammer", Steve Janaszak, Billy Baker; most of whom my friends, and Robbie had told me that he was sure to be there.

For the first hour or so I had to run out to our rental car a few times to fetch this or that for Dad, Craig Patrick, or Walter Bush (the director of this whole thing), and each time the parking lot was more and more crowded with cars and excited hockey players from around the country. It was hard to not feel the nervous energy around the place- players were everywhere, and I could feel the tension building.

* * *

"Hey there." I said distractedly as I pushed a lock of hair behind my ear, looking up briefly at one of the players. "Name, please?" I asked.

"How you doin'. Ralph Cox, UNH." He said, setting down his gear. He smiled at me, and I gave him a quick smile in return, glancing up from scribbling out a registration sheet.

"Alright, here you go." I said, handing him a name tag and the form. "You're gonna need to go and get your picture taken over to your right, give this paper to the people behind the counter on your left, and then check in your equipment in the locker room down the main hall, third door on the right."

He smiled at me as he took the name tag and the paper. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. Good luck, Ralph." He nodded, walking off.

"Maggie May!" I heard over the din from across the expansive lobby. I smiled, knowing exactly who the voice belonged to. I looked up to see a grinning Rob McClanahan running towards me, gear in tow.

"Hey! Long time no see." I cried jokingly, standing up to hug him.

"Yeah, there was a whole one week period where I didn't ever think I'd see you again!" I laughed as he hugged me. "So you're gonna be part of the team?" he asked me when we let go.

"Yeah. Team manager, but I'm really the go-to girl for all the paperwork and arrangements and secretary for the team. Dad just wanted me to be excited about my job description." I said, hoping I sounded halfway convincing that I was actually excited about it.

"That's awesome! It'll be just like the old days…" he said, smiling. He either didn't catch on, or was pretending he didn't hear the nonexistent excitement in my voice.

"Yeah, it will. Except I won't be there to check you on the ice whenever you try and score." I said jokingly.

Robbie rolled his eyes. "You aren't ever gonna let me forget that are you?" I shook my head, giggling.

"Nope. Not ever."

"Hey, I can't help that we were fourteen years old… You're a girl, and it wouldn't have been right to check you."

I just laughed. "Yeah, sure." He laughed as well. "Have you been checked in?" I asked. He held up his registration papers.

"I'm off to get photographed."

"I guess I'll see you on the ice, then. Good luck, Robbie." I said, hugging him once more.

"Thanks Maggie. See ya." He replied, walking off towards the photographer.

I must've checked in at least six dozen other guys after that, all repeating the same thing over and over. After finally getting a five minute break to use the restroom, I ran right into who was apparently Walter Bush's secretary. Walter had wanted the files of the players trying out brought up to his office to review with the rest of the administrative staff, so of course, I had to use my five minute break to get the files and find the offices that they were meeting in before I got to go and watch the try-outs.

I was walking down the hall trying to find the administrative offices when I ran into someone, nearly falling over. I had been craning my neck to see through the windows of the various offices and was walking way too fast for not watching where I was going. The box I was carrying went flying to the ground as all the files and papers fell out, scattering all over the hallway.

"Oh, great!" I muttered under my breath, and bent down to start picking them up.

"Oh, sorry. That was my fault." I heard someone say with a very thick New England accent.

"No, it was my fault. I'm a klutz." I muttered, grabbing the papers and shoving them into random files. Then the New England-accented guy got down and started gathering the papers with me.

"Uh, here…" he said handing them to me.

"Thanks." I said, taking them, and looking up into the bluest eyes I had ever seen.

He held his hand out, offering to help me up. "Jimmy Craig." He said, smiling politely.

"Maggie Brooks." I replied, shaking it.

"Brooks? Like the coach?" he asked, raising his dark eyebrow, his eyes glinting.

I shifted the files to my hip. "Yeah." I said. "I'm his daughter, actually."

"Oh." he said. "And you're helping out with the team?"

I nodded. "Team Manager, or secretary- depending on who you talk to." I said. I could hear the dread in my voice, and I knew that Jimmy probably could tell I wasn't entirely too excited about it as well.

He picked up on it. "And you don't want to be team manager or secretary, I'm guessing?"

"Oh, no!" I exclaimed. "I don't mind; in fact I'm excited about it. I love hockey, but it's…" I paused, trying to control the tears I could feel catching in my throat. "It's just something personal." I said, finally looking up at him.

"Okay." He said, accepting my answer. He had a questioning look on his face and I could tell that he was a little curious, but he didn't ask anything.

"Yeah." I said, nervously running my fingers through my hair.

"Well, I guess I'll see you around, then." He smiled.

"Yeah. I guess you will." I said, offering a small smile. "Nice meeting you."

Jimmy nodded. "Yeah, nice meeting you, too."

He turned then, walking down the hall.

"Oh! Jimmy!" I called out. He stopped, turning around.

"Good luck!" I said. He smiled.

"Thanks."

* * *

Well, that's chapter two. You know that little button in the left hand lower corner? The one that's a weird, watered-down periwinkle color? 

Do me a favor:

Click it. Then review.

Likes, dislikes, suggestions, etc. Let me know--- I can't be a better writer without that sort of thing!

Please and thank you!

-Amanda


	3. Chapter 3

Three_  
_

_Maggie  
_

After finally finding Walter's office, I went into the arena and up on the bleachers to watch everything. There were drills and different exercises that all of the players had to perform while the advisory board walked around observing. Taking a stack of papers to read through, I started to familiarize myself with the names and tasks associated with the Olympic Committee and the organization I was now part of.

I looked down the bleachers at some of the Board's members. They were pointing out individual players, moves that they liked or disliked, and were commenting on the different positions. I felt a pang of anxiety after seeing their faces scrutinizing the players on the ice. I had known what it was like to be judged like that, and I scanned the ice for the boys I did know. Sitting there, I got lost in the lull of the whistles, skates, and pucks as I watched blurred figures of players perform the drills. It calmed me- I thought of how different a direction my life had taken in the past two weeks. I was offered countless jobs and positions after graduation from companies all across the Midwest, but I needed time at home to cope with everything. I knew it threw me for a loop, but that stupid accident caused me more grief than I ever wanted. There's something terrible about one event leaving you completely destroyed emotionally, and despite how much I wanted to piece everything back together again the grief wouldn't let me.

I understand my father's reasons for all of this. He and I are both searching... My father, I know, is looking for closure and assurance with his career. Even with his successful career at the U, he looked at this coaching job as something more than what it presented itself as. He saw this as a way to finally make peace with the battle he had been fighting for twenty years. After this was over, maybe he would go back to NCAA coaching, but I don't think even he knew for sure. I, personally, hope he'll take a hiatus, spend time with Danny and Kelly- watch them grow up. He did with me, and God knows how grateful I am that he did.

Me? Well, I don't know what I'm searching for through this experience. Confidence, maybe? Redirection? I knew when I got the job this opportunity would benefit somehow, but right now all I want to do is slip back into my old life, my old routine. I know in the back of my mind no matter how much I wanted to change it, I couldn't. Knowing it is one thing, of course; accepting it is another.

* * *

_Third_

An hour later the entire group was gathered on the bleachers.

"…Hughes. Wells. Ross. Auge. Delich. Horsch. Strobel. Christoff. Morrow. Suter. Ramsey. Janaszak. Christian. Pavelich. Verchota. Baker. Harrington. Schnieder. O'Callahan. McClanahan. Silk. Johnson. Craig. Cox. Eruzione. And that's the roster for now. Rest of you, thanks for coming out." Craig Patrick announced. Maggie was standing down in the front off to the side with Doc Nichobads, watching all of their reactions. She knew most of the names, and was relieved and excited the ones she knew had made it.

She wasn't questioning her father's way of operating; she had known he was going to do this- choose his team on the first day of the event- ever since he got the job. She knew that there was a method to her father's madness, but also knew that the advisory staff would have twenty cows when they knew that only one day out of a whole week of try-outs was used with the roster finalized already.

The ones who didn't make it stood up and shuffled out off the bleachers, while Maggie watched the players who did make it congratulate each other. She smiled to herself, seeing the excitement in their faces. She shared a proud glance with Doc, then with Coach Patrick.

It was Herb who brought Maggie, as well as the players themselves, back to attention.

"Take a good look, gentlemen." Herb said, standing in the back row of the bleachers. Everyone turned their attention towards him. "'Cause they're the ones getting off easy." He stepped down the steps, heading down to the front of them. "We're putting a few of you on reserve in case somebody gets injured or their game goes to hell. The final roster will have twenty names on it in seven months, so more of you are going home. You give ninety-nine percent, you'll make my job very, very easy."

He paused, reaching Doc, Craig, and Maggie.

"I'll be you're coach, I won't be your friend. If you need one of those, take it up with Doc, Coach Patrick, or Maggie here." With that, he left the arena.

Doc and Maggie looked at each other, smiling. They knew that Herb had done that purposefully. They then looked over at Coach Patrick, holding a stack of tests in his hands. He passed half the stack to Maggie, and held one in the air.

"Alright, gentlemen." He said, clearing his throat. "Congratulations to all of you. That's it for today. On the way out, pick up one of these," waving the test. "You've got a little homework to do, before you celebrate." he added, smiling. "Thank you."

Everyone stood up then, the boys clapping and cheering on their way out.

_Robbie_

"Hey, do you guys wanna head over to that bar down the street?" Phil Verchota asked us. A group of the Minnesota boys were with a few guys from other schools talking on the bleachers steps. When we were driving out to try-outs, Philly saw a bar down the street from the arena, and it seemed like the perfect way to celebrate making the team.

"Yeah." The guys replied, nodding. "Sure, why not?"

"Hey, let's invite Maggie. She might wanna come." Buzz Schnieder said, looking over at me.

I nodded. "Yeah, sure. I'll ask her." I hope she would come; I've been really worried about her since the accident. She's been so depressed, and nothing I've done has helped her get out of it. All of the guys have tried everything, but nothing ever seems to work. She'd gotten thinner and looked nothing at all like the Maggie I've grown to have as my very best friend for the past fifteen years. _Maybe hanging around with a bunch of hockey players for seven months will change all of that…_ I thought, chuckling.

"Hey Maggie May!" Buzzy yelled out.

She looked up from handing out tests to the guys walking out. "What, Buzzy?"

"You wanna come to the bar with us to celebrate?" Philly asked, reaching her first. Maggie chuckled, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. "We saw a bar down the street, and thought we would go celebrate."

"Whose idea was this?" she asked, shoving tests in all of our hands.

"Philly's." I said, smiling.

She nodded, smiling knowingly. "I figured."

I draped my arm around her shoulders.

"Come on, Maggs. I know you're not doing anything tonight, and we all know that you want to come out with us whether you'll say it or not. It'll be fun!" I said, then kissed her head. "You should get out- those papers would drive me mad!"

"Plus, you'll get to hang out us!" Bill Baker cried, getting an amused eye roll from Maggie. "How could it get any better?"

"I don't know if that's such a good idea, Robbie…" she started, averting her gaze to my Nikes. I rolled my eyes.

"Come on, Maggie! You gotta live a little! Come with us, please?" She tilted her head up to look at all of us.

"Thanks for the offer guys, but I think I should just go back to the hotel. I'm kinda tired…"

Jannie interjected then. "Maggie, it'll be fun! Come out with us, you deserve to have a break."

It took a long time of us pleading for her attendance and insisting that she get out and enjoy herself until she finally consented- I suspect it was to get us to stop bugging her.

"I'm not staying long, okay?" She sighed tiredly.

"Yes!" Everyone cried, and I picked her up, giving her a giant hug much to her chagrin.

"You'll ride with us." I said, grinning, as I set her down, and she ran her hand through her long hair.

"Why do I get the impression that this will be an interesting car ride?" she asked, grabbing her purse and hastily telling Doc she was being kidnapped, that she would see him and Herb at the hotel in a few hours. He smiled and waved us off in response.

Philly smiled. "Because you've ridden in cars with us about a thousand times before."

She nodded. "That's right. And every time I have something has happened that has scarred me for life."

Everyone headed out to their own cars. Philly, Buzzy, Dave Christian, John 'Bah' Harrington, and a few other guys went ahead to grab tables and beer, but me, Mark Johnson, and Maggie took my car. We knew Mark from the Wisconsin games, and had since become good friends with him and Bob Suter.

When we pulled into the bar's parking lot, Maggie was starting to doubt again.

"Hey guys, I think I should just go back to the hotel… I have work to do, you know… for the team."

"No you aren't!" Mark and I said at once, glaring fiercely at her in the backseat from the rear-view mirror.

"You are coming in with us, and you are going to have fun. Just grab something to eat and relax!" I said, taking her arm and dragging her out of the car. "You deserve it."

* * *

"You get stopped by a policeman, but you know you're not at fault. Do you state your disagreement right away?" Dave Silk read aloud from his test. He flipped through the rest of the packet and sighed, throwing his pen down in frustration. "He's got three hundred of these things." 

"It's just a test, Silky." Mike Eruzione said. "You've taken one or two of them before."

They were sitting in Marty's, a bar just down the street from the arena the Olympic tryouts had been held at. Only a handful of the boys from New England who tried out made the team, and it was this small minority that had decided to unwind after a tedious, but very rewarding, six hours. Most of them were in relatively good moods, celebrating their recent achievement. Because of this, three pitchers of beer had already been consumed after an hour in the establishment. Jack O'Callahan was currently heading up the effort, Ralph Cox and Dave Silk not far behind. It was an unspoken rule to let loose and relax, and all seated at the table planned to follow it.

Out of Boston University, Dave Silk, Mike Eruzione, Jim Craig, and Jack O'Callahan had all caught a plane out of Boston to Colorado Springs the previous day, and were staying at a local hotel for the night. They would fly back in the morning to collect their things and promptly move back to Minneapolis, where they would be staying for the duration of the Olympic tour. Ralph Cox, a smart forward out of University of New Hampshire, albeit graduating from BU, had quickly become friends with his fellow New Englanders, joining the front against the extensive list of Minnesotans also on the team. They were all proud of their schools, and some 'team' thrown together in seven months was not going to change that.

Petty conversation was heard across the somewhat unruly bar, despite the early hour. Beer flowed from the tap at the bar, where Rizzo had just returned with a fresh pitcher minutes before. Before the distractions, the group had been studiously bent over Herb's psychology test. Halfway through, however, discipline began to dwindle and conversation became the new focus.

Jack poured himself and Ralph another beer. He had just leaned back in his chair to take a sip when a shout came across the building.

"Hey, Rizzo!" came from the door. Everyone looked up. Rob McClanahan and another guy were walking into the bar. "How's it goin'?"

"Mac." Rizzo smiled and nodded in response to Rob's wave. Jack looked from the door to his friend, confusion giving way to annoyance. Rizzo shot him a look, but turned his gaze back to the door when Silk elbowed him in the arm.

"What, man?" He asked, a bit irritated, both from his friend's behavior and the pain coming from his shoulder. He had dislocated his shoulder at tryouts earlier, and it still was sore as hell, though he would never be caught dead admitting it.

Silkie didn't reply, but kept watching as the door swung back, revealing a girl walk in behind them.

"Hey, who's that?" Rizzo asked, his eyebrows raised in interest. Jack and Ralph looked over towards the door. A low whistle came from Silky then, and everyone's interest peaked. They shrugged, still watching as she joined the Minnesota table and was handed a glass of water from a waiter.

"Maggie!" Rizzo exclaimed suddenly.

"Who's Maggie?" Ralph questioned.

"Her!" Rizzo pointed to the girl.

"How do you know that?" Jack asked skeptically, speaking up for the first time since McClanahan came through the door.

"Because I remember Herb saying her name after he told us that he wasn't going to be anyone's friend. He told us to see Craig, Doc, or her. Her name is Maggie." Rizzo smiled triumphantly, knowing he was right.

"Only you would remember that." Jack snarled.

"You mean you didn't notice her in the front with Coach Patrick or the Doctor?" Silk asked. "How could you not."

Jack only sniffed arrogantly, leaning back in his chair.

"Come on, OC. You must think she's hot." Coxie said, sipping his beer.

"She is." He said, nonchalant.

"Then someone should go talk to her." Dave put in.

Jack scoffed. "Why would you? She came in with them." He said, folding his arms across his chest, a frown shadowing his features.

"Easy, big guy." Rizzo warned.

"You know I don't know how you can sit in the same room with that clown." Jack growled.

"Let it go, it's over." Rizzo perked up. He loved the guy, but his temper really could get out of hand.

"What's goin' on here?" Ralph asked, interested, while swirling his beer.

"OC's got a little unfinished business over there." Dave supplied, glancing over at the now crowded Minnesota table.

"Not for long I don't." Jack mumbled hotly.

"Hey, what'd I tell you, man?" Rizzo jumped.

"McClanahan?" Ralph cried. "You're not still goin' on about the '76 playoffs, are you? Oh come on, OC! That was like, three years ago!"

"You know what, Coxie; let me ask you a question." Jack said, leaning back again. "Why'd you wanna play college hockey?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Coxie replied, grinning. "For the girls?" Rizzo chuckled, despite the conversation.

"I'm serious, Coxie." Jack argued. "Why'd you wanna play college hockey?"

"'Cause I love to play hockey, alright? I wanna go to the NHL, just like everybody does."

"Well I wanted to win a National Championship." Jack continued angrily. "That pansy over they cheap-shots me, I get tossed out of the game. He steals the ring off my finger! How would you feel?"

"Everyone was throwing cheap-shots that night, man." Rizzo interrupted defensively.

"You know what, Rizzo? It's funny you say that. 'Cause I was just wondering what side you're on." Jack spit.

"I'm on your side!"

"You know it really seems that way." OC said, throwing his pen down on the table and leaning backing his chair.

"You know what; just relax, okay? Jeez." Coxie said, trying to calm everyone down.

OC sniffed cockily. "I'm not doin' this right now." he mumbled. "I'm outta here." He said, standing up, grabbing his test.

"Hey, where you goin'?" Mike asked.

"To my room." Jack snapped back. "Is that alright with you, Mother?"

He stormed off then, weaving through the tables and towards the front of the establishment.

"Just let him go." Cox said, taking a sip of his beer. "No wonder he gets so many penalty minutes, right?"

"He gets a little carried away sometimes." Silky concluded, glancing over at Jack striding over to the door, swinging it open and walking out into the night.

* * *

Meh, it's filler. For those reading, just keep in mind there indeed is a plot to this, but as with everything, take time to develop. Also, for those of you who expressed an interest, Robbie will indeed be a part of this story, I love him too much to ignore him. Thank you's go to the reviews, and if I could, I would bake my world famous double chocolate chip cookies and give them to you. But alas, this is cyberspace, and unless someone has come up with some amazing machine to let me do that, I am afraid I'll have to settle for a simple thank you and a virtual smile of appreciation.

Until next chapter...


	4. Chapter 4

Four

_Minneapolis, Minnesota_

_Tuesday, June 16, 1979_

_-Maggie-_

Three days after try-outs the team caught a plane and flew back to Minneapolis and the University of Minnesota, where we would be living and practicing until the pre-Olympic tour started and we would begin to travel. Most of the boys had seemed to get along well- most of them were familiar with all the others simply from playing college hockey for four years, and everyone despite whether you knew them or not seemed genuinely nice. Some bad blood seemed to be brewing under the surface with some of the rivalries, however, but with Jack O'Callahan blatantly ignoring Robbie and Robbie clearly doing the same, no one wanted to bring it up. It was the unspoken agreement of the team, and I was pretty sure that no one wanted to start anything.

We were down at the Bloomington Arena. I was sitting on the bleachers right behind the players' box doing paperwork for the team and watching our first practice as the United States Olympic Hockey Team.

The boys were all doing a bunch of drills, and Dad, of course, was yelling at whoever was performing them.

I looked up in the middle of a medical form for Doc when someone got out on the ice. I saw the number on the back of his jersey and looked it up on the roster sheet. #10: Mark Johnson, Center. University of Wisconsin.

"Look for the pass! Come on, hit 'em with a pass!" Mark got the puck and maneuvered it around the opposing defensemen and across the neutral zone.

"Come on, Johnson! Outside!" Dad yelled. Mark was good. He was weaving expertly in and out of people, he had amazing control of the puck, and he had ridiculously quick feet. "Alright Johnson, hit him on the other side!" Mark traveled farther down the rink, nearing the net.

"Move it and hit it, Johnson! He's open!"

"Center! Center!" the defending goalie cried.

"Come on Johnson!" Mark skillfully skated around the boards, saw an opportunity, and shot the puck into the goal, making it in.

I smiled, hearing the whistle blow. He skated leisurely around the goal, waiting to hear my Dad's disapproval. I loved my Dad, but sometimes his criticism was too much…

"Johnson!" he yelled. "That coast to coast stuff may work here, but it won't against the teams we'll be playing."

"Okay Coach." Mark said quietly, nodding.

"Next lineup. Let's go, let's run it again." Dad said. I saw Robbie get up and climb on the ice. I instinctively looked over at Jack O'Callahan- I knew right then as I looked at his face something was definitely going to happen.

Jack glanced over at Robbie, and when Morrow got up, Jack stood up and climbed over the boards.

"Morrow, let me take this one." And he skated off, leaving Kenny standing on the ice. I felt stomach drop. Oh gosh, he was gonna go out there and kill Rob!

"This is a breakout play, gentlemen." Herb said. I looked at Jack. He was glaring and sneaking determined side glances at Robbie. "So please, let's get rid of the puck early! Alright, let's go!"

Herb passed the puck, and the play was set in motion. Jack skated back and around, keeping his eyes on Robbie the whole time.

_Someone should better stop the play soon or else…_

Then Jack charged towards an unsuspecting Robbie and completely knocked him in the air, sending him sprawling over the ice.

…_someone's gonna get hurt._

I stood up, concerned for my best friend. "Oh my God."

"What's OC doing?" I heard from one of the boys. A crowd was slowly gathering as Robbie hunched on the ice.

I looked over at Dad; he was just standing there watching.

I saw Mike Ramsey come up, obviously worried.

"He didn't even have the puck." Someone said.

I looked over at Jack; I wanted to wipe that smirk right off his face. How dare he do that!? I understand about having a grudge, but that's terrible sportsmanship-- you just don't do that.

"What the hell are you hitting him like that for, man?" Verchota said angrily, skating over.

"That's bush league, OC." John 'Bah' Harrington spat.

"Nice hit, OC." Dave Silk called out from the bench. I rolled my eyes.

"Tell your boy to keep his head up, and he won't have to worry about it." Jack said, arrogance ringing through his tone.

"You alright, man?" Dave Christian asked, offering to help Robbie up off the ice.

When he didn't take the offer, I knew Robbie was furious. There was a fight coming on, I knew it. _Three, two, one._

"Let's go!" Robbie yelled, and charged towards OC, throwing down his stick. His nose was bleeding and swollen, and his eyes were shining with rage. He came at Jack, who instantly threw a punch at him. The two tumbled over the ice, every now and again landing a punch.

Coach Patrick, seeing the fight break out, started to skate over and break it up, but Dad stopped him.

"Craig, let them go." I was mad now. Dad was the coach and he was letting them beat each other up?! What was he thinking? Jack and Robbie were the pure definition of a long-held grudge, and if something didn't happen soon I would most likely be the one calling their families and have to deal with law suits to the U.S.O.C. about two dead hockey players.

Moments later guys tried to break the two of them up, but everyone else just got in fights trying to defend their own teammate.

"Hey, stay on him!" Silky cried.

"Stay out of it, Buzzy!" Someone yelled when Buzz leaped over the boards in effort to try and break it up.

"What are you doing? Stay out of it, Baker!"

Most of the players were just standing around, egging them on.

"Get him, OC! Come on, give it to him!"

"Take him down!"

"Let him have it, OC!"

"There you go, beat him!"

"Put him on the ice, Mac!"

Then Jack landed a punch directly in Mac's face. I gasped, and was tempted to go out there and call out the two of them for acting like this. Then the guys made an effort to break it up. Separating the two seemed to calm it down some.

"Well how 'bout it boys?" Herb started. I rolled my eyes. _Not now, Dad. Come on, no one wants to hear it now… _

"Look like hockey to you?" he spat. "Looks more like a couple of monkeys trying to hump a football to me, I don't know." He turned to Craig. "Whatta you think, Craig?"

"Yeah." He replied, looking a little confused.

"You wanna settle old scores you're on the wrong team." Dad continued. "We move forward starting right now! We start becoming a team right now!" he smacked his stick on the ice for emphasis.

He paused, and his tone changed. "Skating. Passing. Flow. Creativity. That is what this team is all about, gentlemen, not old rivalries." He paused, looking at everyone. The boys were all staring at their skates or around the rink, their gazes settling anywhere but on each other. I stared at the fresh blood on the ice, and then at Robbie's mangled nose. It made my stomach turn.

"So, why don't we start off with some introductions?" Herb continued pointedly. "You know, get to know each other? Where you're from, who you play for." He motioned to Rob.

Robbie rolled his eyes, sighing. "Rob McClanahan. St. Paul, Minnesota."

"Who do you play for?" Herb asked.

"For you, here at the U."

Herb nodded, and turned to Jack.

"Jack?"

Jack stood there with a smug look on his face. "Jack O'Callahan. Charlestown, Mass. Boston University."

"Over here." Herb pointed to Coxie then.

"Uh, I'm Ralph Cox." He paused, smiling. "And I'm from wherever's not gonna get me hit." He said, shrugging his shoulders and adjusting his helmet. Everyone laughed at that. I smiled, I liked this guy. A little comic relief can go a long way, especially with a team like this and a coach like my Dad.

"Very good." Herb said. "Everybody on the line." With that, practice resumed.

After practice ended an hour later, I wanted to go find Robbie and see if he was alright, but I knew I would probably find Jack first and try to kill him, before going and giving Mac a very large piece of my mind. No matter how much I loved Robbie, I wish he could control his temper better. I had seen him get in so many fights, even when we were playing pickup games with the other kids at the local pond at seven years old.

I only hoped that the boys had gotten that out of their systems, and could focus on becoming a team. Lord knows we'd need it against the teams we'd be playing in seven months.

* * *

I walked to Doc's office inside the locker room minutes later, knocking three times. 

A muffled 'come in' came from inside, and I opened the door and stepped inside, shutting the door behind me.

"Here are your files, Doc." I handed them to the old man.

"Ah, thank you Maggie." He smiled at me, chuckling. I couldn't help but smile back- I had known the elderly doctor for as long as I could remember. Since I never had any grandparents (all of them passed away when I was still a baby) he and Velta stepped in and took the part. He always took me out to get ice cream when I had a rough day at school or I was sick and stayed home, and he and Velta came over to eat dinner with us once a week for years. Every Christmas they came over, and Doc always brought me an ornament _'for your Christmas tree when you're married and on your own'_. They were always Lenox figurines, and I have them all in the bottom drawer of my dresser in my old room, waiting until I had a Christmas tree of my own one day. Every year I gave him a peck on his cheek, a giant hug, and a present of his own. He still has at least ten bow ties from when I was younger, that he even wears on occasion.

Velta was the grandmother who you could sit on her lap and have her tell you stories for hours, or listen patiently while you told her how upset you were over a fight you had with your best friend. She was the one who taught me how to bake a turkey- I was fifteen on Thanksgiving. My mother was making pies, and I learned how to baste a turkey, stuff it, and roast it. I was so proud- when I pulled it out of the oven I almost dropped the pan I was so excited.

I smiled at him and kissed his cheek. I loved his bow tie, his adorable glasses, his endearing smile, and his gruff but gentle voice. I hoisted myself on the examination table and leaned against the wall.

"How are you doing, my dear?" He asked in his thick Latvian accent.

"I'm alright." I said quietly, glancing down at my shoes. "How is it being the doctor for the United States Olympic Hockey Team?"

He smiled. "I must say it is a wonderful experience. Something I will never forget, most definitely."

We chatted for a few more minutes, hearing the players one by one leave the locker room. Doc checked his watch, smiling fondly.

"I should be leaving; Velta should be getting home from the charity meeting soon."

I smiled. "You really love her, don't you Doc?"

He nodded. "Yes. I do- very much."

I sighed and nodded, smiling a bit reminiscently.

"Don't you worry, little one." He had called me that since I had met him. No matter what my age was, I could count on him still calling me that. "Some wonderful young man will come along when you least expect it and sweep you off your feet. Just be patient, he will come."

I shook my head in awe, looking over at him. "How did you know I was thinking that?"

He only smiled to himself, shrugging. "I am old- I know these things."

I laughed. "Doc, you're not old. You're just as young as you were forty years ago."

He took my hand and kissed it. "You are a blessing, my dear. A true blessing."

We stood in silence for a minute.

"I should let you get going. Tell Velta I love her for me."

Doc nodded. "I will, dear. I will see you tomorrow."

I nodded. "That you will." I opened the door. "'Night, Doc." He waved as I shut the door behind me.

* * *

That's chapter 4, people! 

Wow, school sucks! Down here in the Sunshine State school starts on August 20 (curse those non-existent hurricanes... I knew the news was hyping this season as 'the worst hurricane season in recorded history', we've only had a tropical storm and a minor one in the Caribbean halfway through the season) and taking 3 AP courses and 2 senior classes when I'm only a junior generally tends to take up a very large chunk of time I would otherwise be spent writing and editing. So, if this chapter seems pretty weak (which it is, I admit) I am simply pointing out the obvious, and that my brain is currently being occupied by useless Trig and Algebra theorems, European and US history facts and timelines, and possible topics for countless research papers... Believe me, it would much rather be consumed with my fanfic and the upcoming hockey season (gotta love those Bruins!), but unfortunately school is a high priority. Only 9 months till summer!

Once again, there IS a plot, trust me... it's planned and written (somewhat), and there will be stuff happening. Just have patience!

Please point out any mistakes and such... suggestions are always good, as well! hint hint

Also, thanks so much for the reviews! I know people out there are reading, my hits on this story are going up each post... so for all of you who don't review: have a voice! Speak your mind, lol... tell me what you hated, what sucked, and (hopefully!) what you liked!

Until next chapter...

-Amanda


	5. Chapter 5

Terribly sorry, everyone, for such a long absence on my part! Despite my efforts to upload this story and desperately continue, alas, life stepped in and demanded my attention. I regret my inactivity, as I truly love writing and this movie. :D However, I am committed now to uploading frequently. In my long sojourn I have in fact written quite a large load of material for this story, so count on updates! I am a senior this year, so with applications to college (eek!), schoolwork, and everything else that comes with being a self-proclaimed nerdy student like myself, updates might be sporadic. Yet, take heart, because there will be updates!

Also, I wish to thank extra profusely the wonderful readers and reviewers to this story. You all are darlings, and thank you for your kind words! You all make my days better!

I don't own Jimmy or any of the other 1980 boys (sadly), but I do own Maggie and her dear friend Ellie. :D Therefore, please don't take any unnecessary legal action, because my college education must be funded somehow...

So, now that I have gotten my excuses and disclaimers out of the way, enjoy.

* * *

_Wednesday, June 21, 1979_

_-Maggie- _

As some crazy idea completely unlike him, Dad thought it would be good for me to stay in the dorms with the boys, so I had a single on the same hall as the rest of the team and was in the process of moving in. It was my old building from sophomore year, and we were staying on the floor below my room, and that brought back so many memories that I desperately tried not to remember.

I was in the parking lot a few days after our first practice bringing the last of my stuff in the trunk of my car when I saw my Dad farther down the lot. He was walking out of the building with what looked like a stack of papers in his hand. A few moments later I saw Jim Craig come running out of the building after him. I stopped what I was doing and watched, curious.

They talked for a while and then Dad walked off, dropping the papers into a trash can as he went.

I frowned, a bit confused. It wasn't any of my business, of course, but my curiosity would often get the better of me- and with it involving my dad and a member of the team it bugged me even more. I shrugged, pushing it to the back of my mind and locking the door to my imagination as grabbed a box from the backseat and shut the door with my foot. Jimmy must've heard it because he turned around and saw me. When I saw the look on his face I knew something was wrong. He looked so sad, and I was immediately concerned.

"Hey Jimmy." I said softly, walking over to him.

"Hey." He said, just as quietly.

"Are you alright?" I asked. "You don't look so good."

He shrugged, shoving his hands into the pockets of his track pants. "Yeah, I'm alright." He said in his Boston drawl. "I've just been thinking about my Mom, that's all."

I nodded, understanding. I read in his file that his mother had recently passed away.

"Okay. Uh, do you want to talk about it, or…" I said, trailing off. He shook his head, looking down at me.

"No, I'll be alright. Thanks, though." He smiled glumly. Then, looking down at the box I was holding, he realized.

"Oh, do you want some help with that?"

I nodded gratefully. "I've just got a suitcase and one more box in my car."

"Right. I'll get 'em." He said, opening the trunk and reaching inside for them.

"Thanks." I said, and he shut the trunk.

"No problem." He said, coming back. "Let's go." He said, smiling, and motioned for me to go ahead.

... ... ... ... ...

_-Jimmy-_

"Is this it?" I asked Maggie when we got up the stairs. I motioned towards a door at the end of the hall.

"Yup. That's it." She said, walking through the door propped open by a box full of vinyl albums.

I walked in after her, looking around as I walked over to the sofa. I smiled to myself- she had two lamps plugged into various outlets around the room resting on pieces of furniture, creating a warm, yellow glow throughout the room the size of a small one-room apartment. There were boxes all over the floor- some opened and unpacked- with things from books, records, and eight-tracks to jewelry boxes, clothes, and pictures. On the table by the sink and mini-fridge, files and papers were spread out messily. Her sheets and blankets were strewn half hazardly on the bed, all wadded up and thrown together.

I chuckled. "I take it you're still getting settled."

She smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, I'm not a very organized person when it comes to moving things from one place to another." She set her box down on the floor.

"Do you need help moving furniture or setting up anything?" I offered. She stood up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she looked around her room.

"Uh, no, I think I'm…" she started, and reached down into an open box, pulling out a picture frame. Her face changed, and her expression darkened. She was quiet for a few seconds. "I'm…good." She bit her lip, bringing her hand up to her mouth.

"You okay, Maggie?" I asked, coming over to her. I laid my hand on her shoulder, and she looked up at me, a bit startled. I was surprised- she had tears in her eyes. "What's wrong?" I asked. She sniffed again and wiped her eyes, very much attempting not to cry.

"I didn't… my mother must've packed…" she started to say, but she started crying then. I looked down at the picture she was holding. It was of Maggie and another girl, both soaking wet sitting in a rowboat, grinning broadly.

"She was my best friend… we were roommates." she said, crying.

I was confused, but I knew that something definitely was wrong. "Hey, come here, come sit down." I said, and lead her over to the couch.

"What happened?" I asked soothingly, rubbing her back.

"She died, Jimmy. She _died_." She said quietly between sobs.

I raised my eyebrows, glancing over at the frame holding the picture that was set on the cushion beside us. I kept quiet until she started to talk on her own. Her voice was small and she sounded so tired and defeated.

"She was killed two months ago. On April twenty-second." I cringed.

"How?" I asked.

"It was raining." She started, sniffing. "She was driving back from her parent's house to our apartment to study for finals and she got hit head on by a semi-truck and run into a ditch." She buried her head in her hands, and was shaking with sobs. "She was killed instantly according to the police, who said her car was completely totaled when they found it. It was all smashed in at every angle," she choked on a sob. "They couldn't even get her out of the car." She sobbed for a minute before she continued. "I didn't find out until the next morning when the police came to tell me. It's like it was all in slow motion. I can remember every moment, even the officers' name and the exact time it was when they knocked on my door. I was worried sick about her- I didn't sleep one bit and I got so nervous when she didn't come home. I called her parents' house around midnight but they said that she had left already, more than two hours before. I stayed up all night waiting, making up ridiculous excuses as to why she hadn't come home just to keep myself from going crazy… but she never came home. She never came." She gasped, now no longer able to steady her breath as she cried harder.

_Oh, God. _I prayed, my chest tightening. "Come here." I said, and brought her to me, her body quivering and her skin hot. She buried her head in my chest and I wrapped my arms around her. "Ssh, it's alright." I said, rocking her back and forth.

"This is my old building," she said, "and our dorm room is on the next floor. We had the third to last one down the hall." Maggie gasped. She cried even harder for a few minutes, and I rubbed her back and rocked her gently. I thought to myself, piecing everything together as best I could, trying to sort everything out.

When my mom died, I was exactly like her. Broken, miserable, and the loneliest I had ever felt in my life. Compared to me, Maggie was doing ten times better than how I was at this point. A month after my mom died I couldn't even go out of the house.

"My dad wanted me to be the team manager so I could get out… to try and get back to normal." She sobbed quietly, her voice muffled from my shirt. "He wanted me to live in the dorms, but never said which one. When I heard it was this one I tried to get out of it, but he didn't understand what the problem was."

Now I completely understood everything. I thought back to a few days ago in Colorado Springs when Maggie said that she was the team manager when I had first met her in the hallway. As soon as she said that and I saw her eyes get all watery, I knew something big was behind it. "But nobody seems to understand how hard it is to get on with your life when someone you love is gone and you know that you won't ever see them again!" She sobbed. Her voice was cracking and ragged from crying. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be telling you this. I'm sorry."

"I understand." I said quietly. "It's alright, don't worry about it. Go ahead and cry.""

She looked up at me. "Is there something wrong with me?" she whispered. "Did I do something wrong?" she asked, crying harder.

"No, no!" I whispered. "There's nothing wrong with you, and you didn't do anything wrong."

"But then why is it so hard to let go?!" she wrenched, wiping the tears off her cheeks. "I feel like I could have prevented it…"

"It's hard because you loved that person so much, and you can't seem to see that there's anything left in your life worth living for after they're gone. Even when people say that there's light up at the end of the tunnel, you can't possibly believe them because it doesn't seem like you're able to go any farther." I said, almost more to myself than to Maggie. I had felt the same way about my Mom, and now that I'd had time to start to get over it, I could relate to her.

"But I can't go any farther!" she cried. "It's been so hard just getting this far, and I don't know how I'm gonna be able to get out of it." She paused, a hint of a smile tugged at her mouth. "She was my best friend, Jimmy." she sobbed, burying her head in my chest again.

This was crazy- it was exactly like my mom and I. I've struggled with it every day for the past ten months, and it's taken so long. I know my mom wanted me to be happy; I just can't bring myself to do it.

"And you feel like you've failed her because you can't be strong enough to get through this." I said. That was exactly how I was feeling.

She nodded. "Right. I feel like I'm letting her down because I know that she was _always_ so strong, and I'm not." Maggie started crying again. "I'm not strong at all." She said, shaking her head vehemently.

"But you are strong." I persisted. "You are incredibly strong, Maggie! Just getting this far without giving up proves it."

I had never let this side of me out since Mom's death, and it felt good.

"I don't feel strong…" she whispered.

"You are, and don't ever forget it." I said.

"I just miss her so much, Jimmy!" she cried. I held her tighter.

"I know you do, Maggie. I know you do…"

It was at least ten more minutes before she calmed down. She wasn't crying as hard, and that was a good thing.

"Do you want some water?" I offered. Maggie nodded, wiping her eyes.

"Water would be good." She said. "But I don't have any…" she said quietly, looking around her dorm. "I don't even have any glasses or bottles or anything."

"Then we'll go find some." I offered, and I stood up. "Come on." I smiled, and held my hand out to help her up off the couch. She took it and stood up.

"Are you sure?" she asked, grabbing a tissue to wipe her nose.

I nodded, smiling. "Yeah, I'm sure. Come on. I'm sure someone on this floor has water." She smiled.

"Hey Jimmy?" she said.

I turned around. "Yeah?"

"Thank you." She said, a bit shyly. "I'm not usually such a sap, but when I saw that picture I kinda… snapped. I haven't talked to anyone about it at all since then- it hurts too much- so what you did was really great." Her voice barely higher than a whisper.

"You're welcome." I said quietly.

It was silent for a moment. "Oh, I ruined your shirt. I'm so sorry." Maggie commented, blushing, pointing to my T shirt. I looked down; it was soaked through with tears. "I'll wash it, or buy you a new one or something."

"Don't worry about it." I said, and hugged her.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

I nodded. "Yeah. I'm sure." She smiled, her eyes still watery.

"Let's go find some water."

... ... ... ... ...

_-3__rd-_

Maggie and Jimmy walked out of her dorm room and headed to the next room- Buzz's and OC's.

When a smiling Buzzy opened the door after Jimmy knocked, his smile faded.

"Maggs, you okay?" He asked, concerned. She nodded, sniffing. She rubbed her eyes- they were still red and puffy, and she was sure she looked like a wreck, even after redoing her ponytail and rinsing her face.

"Yeah Buzzy, I'm fine." She said quietly, offering a small smile.

"Do you wanna come in?" he asked.

"Uh," Jimmy looked down at Maggie waiting to answer.

"Sure." She answered for the both of them.

"Okay, great." He widened the door, letting them in.

Jack was sitting on the bed, a bag of chips in his hand.

"What's up, Jim?" He said, smiling.

"Hey OC." Jimmy replied.

"Maggie." He smiled politely.

"Hi Jack." She replied politely. They had talked on the plane, and from what she thought he was a nice guy.

"What's goin' on with you guys?" Jack asked, looking at Maggie, seeing that she had obviously been crying.

"We were just talking…" They both replied quickly.

"Okay." Jack said, getting the hint and letting the subject drop.

"OC and I were just about to start a game of poker and were inviting everyone. Do you guys wanna play?" Buzzy asked.

"I'll play." Jimmy said.

"I'll pass, Buzz. I'm just gonna watch." Maggie said.

"Great! I'll just go spread the word. You wanna help?" The two nodded.

"Good, thanks." Buzzy said, and walked out the door.

Two hours later, all twenty six guys, plus Maggie, were crowded into OC's and Buzzy's dorm room starting their fourth round of poker.

"Aw, come on Silky!" Mike Ramsey, 'Rammer' cried. Silky had won the last three rounds; he was the only one actually enjoying the game.

"Aha! Come on guys, pay up!" Dave cried joyfully, taking up all the cards and shuffling them.

"I'm out. I'm broke, and I don't want to be indebted to Silky any more than I already am." Mac said, putting his cards down on the ground.

"We're out too." Verchota and Coxie said finally.

"Count me out." Jimmy said. "Silky, you're ridiculous…" he laughed, shaking his head.

"Thank you." Dave grinned.

They talked for atleast another hour, everything from hockey, the Olympics, to movies and music, to college.

"Guys, it's three-thirty, and we have practice in four hours. I'm gonna go sleep so I don't get my head bitten off by Coach." Bah said, getting up and grabbing the bag of chips and a now empty beer bottle he brought in. "Goodnight."

"Yeah, sleep would be a good idea." Buzzy said.

Everyone got up and started to leave then.

Goodnights followed, and before long everyone except the original four of them had left.

Maggie turned to Jack, Jimmy, and Buzzy. "See ya'll tomorrow." she said, standing up from her spot on the floor. "Thanks for the water, Buzzy." She said, waving her empty bottle in the air.

"No problem." He said, smiling. She hugged him and Jack before heading for the door.

"Hey Maggie!" Jim called.

Maggie stopped, turning around. "Yeah?"

"Wait up." He said, standing up and walking over to her. "Thanks guys!" he called to Buzzy and Jack, waving.

"No problem." Jack said. "See ya Maggie."

"Bye OC." She replied. "See you Buzzy."

"Bye Maggs." He said, waving.

She and Jimmy walked out the door, closing it behind them.

"Are you alright?" Jimmy asked her outside her door, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"I'm getting there." She said. "Thanks Jimmy."

"No problem." He smiled.

"Thanks for listening. I really needed that. No one seems to understand; it's so frustrating." She said quietly, biting her lip.

"You're welcome." He said. "If you ever need to talk, you know… Don't ever hesitate to ask. My door's always open."

"Thanks." Maggie smiled shyly. She paused. "So I'll see you tomorrow?" She asked.

"Yeah. You will."

"Goodnight Jimmy."

"'Night Maggie." Jimmy said, bending down to give her a hug. She smiled as she wrapped her arms around his broad and muscular shoulders.

With a click, the door closed and she bolted it shut.

She quickly made her bed and turned off the light, and hoped that the following day would be better.

* * *

If you have it in your dear hearts, review! I need encouragement, ladies and gents...

Please and thank you!


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